


No Translation

by tendocandy



Category: Star Trek
Genre: Awkward Kissing, Don't copy to another site, Exploration, F/M, First Contact, First Meetings, Vaginal Sex, Vulcan Kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-20 02:20:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17613599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tendocandy/pseuds/tendocandy
Summary: One of the crew travelling with Solkar gets his own first contact with a human. Curiosity and need wins out.





	No Translation

Serket watched the dying fire in this small clearing, ten days into the landing, the night chill barely chased away by the low burning embers. The vulcan diplomat, Solkar, and the first mate of their ship had spent much of the last several days working out a common language between themselves and these. . . humans . . . to expedite an agreement, an alliance between two newly met species. Serket had spent much of the trip at the fringes of the group, watching, listening, wondering. These humans looked much like he and his fellow vulcans, aside from the shell-curve ears and ruddy skin where vulcan skin was cool tinged. The colors among them varied wildly. Eyes ranged through a rainbow, and hair flew the spectrum from blackest night to red sands to sun-touched fade. He was impatient for some sort of breakthrough to be made, either with communication, or a trip home. He felt the call of home growing strong.

He had learned the sounds of the forest outside the settlement where the resided currently, and the footsteps he heard were not of his fellow vulcans. They were steadied, and measured, lightly pacing through underbrush and the lush growth of ferns that crowded between the trees. He turned towards the sound to see one of the women, bundled against the cold in soft colored wraps and a fawn jacket, carrying a bottle in her hands. She caught his turn towards her, and she raised the bottle and one empty hand in a gesture of surrender. His observations thus far told him she meant the gesture as one of friendship, and he waved her over.

She sat the bottle next to his feet, and promptly found a stick to poke at the embers. It flared just a touch, and she dug the stick against the embers to catch alight before leaving the circle of warmth to gather more fuel for it. She returned to set two logs around the small lick of flame, both shielding it while feeding it, and the fire returned, extending the comfort of heat. She sat next to Serket, picking the bottle up and twisted the top open. She spoke, but the only words he understood thus far was 'drink’ and 'friend’ before she pointed to herself, proclaiming 'Lizabeth’. He understood greeting well enough, and shared his own name. She took a drink straight from the bottle, licking a wayward drop as she pulled it away before handing it to him. 

He did not want to be rude, but he was unsure he could even drink the same liquids. They had kept to their own food stores while they were here, slowly taking samples of human food for the analyzer. Most had seemed safe so far, but human and vulcan palates varied widely.

Then he realized he had not taken his eyes off her mouth as he took the bottle out of politeness. She said something else, low and metered like song. The words were unknown, but he recognized the lilt. He turned his eyes to the bottle, rectangular and green. The liquid smelled sharp like the trees they were under, but there was a slight tint of sugary smoke, like the lataver cakes he enjoyed in his youth. He would dare a sip, barely a touch on his tongue….liquid fire caught him by surprise. He jerked back from the opening of the bottle, covering his mouth with his free hand while handing the bottle back to Lizabeth. She tittered, a laugh so open and musical, as she took the bottle and set it on the ground. Another phrase he had grown to recognize as she patted his shoulder in apology- “I'm sorry.” Her hand remained on his shoulder as he looked at her and tried a reply, quick and simple in her tongue- “Itz zokaay.” 

Her eyebrows raised in delight, accompanying a smile. She chattered on a bit more, and he listened, more to that slight drunken lilt than the words. Serket raised a hand hesitantly, and shook his head, hoping she understood that he didn't. She apparently did, as she ceased talking and just studied him in the firelight. She put her hands towards him, palms up, an invitation.

Did she understand what she was asking? He looked her over, then looked down at her hands. Humans were very . . . trusting? Adventurous? Open with their intimacy, that was certain. They were unperturbed by the hand clasping, but strangely reticent about touching lips. He looked at her again, seeing only curiosity, so he reached one hand over. He hesitated, then gently stroked his fingers along the edge of her palm, down the raised track of tendon in her wrist, back around her thumb, the track along her palm, then middle and third finger, stopping to rest his fingertips gently on hers. He heard her breath catch in fascination. Did it feel as tense, as electric as he did? He suddenly wanted her to return the gesture, and he offered his other hand. She copied the track of his tracing perfectly, and he closed his eyes momentarily, savoring the sensation. She said two words, maybe it was three. He opened his eyes again, and found her curiosity a bit more intense now.

He took one of her hands, repositioning her fingers so her thumb clasped against her last two fingers, and extending the others straight. He copied the pose, then gently stroked the back of her fingers, leading the touch down the back of her hand to her wrist before returning to her fingertips, switching their hand positions so she could repeat it on him. Her touch was delicate and warm, he felt the heat radiating from her palm against his skin. 

Serket decided he wanted more. When her eyes were back on his, he let his free hand touch her chin, delicately as her fingers had touched him. He hesitated as he leaned forward, hoping she would associate the cross-species kiss with the finger motions. Her mouth parted, a slight gasp escaping, and he pulled back, afraid he'd overstepped cultural bounds. But she followed him, closing the space between them, and her soft lips covered his, the same electric sensation filling his nerves. He felt her lips part against his, her tongue barely tapping against his mouth, and he braved the visit by parting his lips. He tasted the drink again on her, strong, but devoid of burn. He clasped her hand tightly, fingers curling into her palm. Several long seconds passed, then she broke away, mouthing more than speaking a word, “wow”.

“Oowahw?” Lizabeth tittered again, smile wide. She shook her head.

“Kiss.” She tapped her lips. Then she tapped his fingers, questioning tone.

He tapped their fingers together in the two-finger pose again, making sure she would understand clearly.

“Kyiss.” Finger stroke down her hand again. She parted her lips in understanding.

“OH.”

Serket then threaded their fingers together, palm to palm.

“...mmmur kyiss.” He then gestured to his lips, parting them slightly to let the tip of his tongue touch his lip briefly. He changed their hand clasp again to the human handshake.

“Nnot kyiss.” He pointed at her. “Mmur kyiss.” He pointed at himself. She looked at him, realization dawning, followed by a mix of horrified amusement and she covered her mouth, voicing another set of words, then laughter. She pulled her hand away as she buckled over, trying to stifle the laughter.

Serket let the smallest of smiles grace his mouth. It was amusing, this misunderstanding. Fairly innocent, at least. She sat back up, catching her breath while taking deep breaths and wiping at her eyes. Composed once more, she softly apologized. He responded by taking her hand in his, enticed by the electric charge her gentle touch ignited. He initiated the trace around her hand again, watching her eyes. She turned towards him a little more, reaching for his cheek with her free hand, fingertips tracing along the arch of his high cheekbone and to his sharply cut black hair. As his fingertips stroked the palmside of her fingers, she traced the curve and point of his ears. He leaned into her touch as she threaded her fingers with his.

Then Serket's mouth was on hers again, his free hand mirroring hers, tracing her cheek and threading through the soft curls of her light hair to find the delicate curl of her alien ear, hoping the sensation he felt from her had an equivalent for her enjoyment as well. She hummed against his mouth. He guessed correctly. Lizabeth pulled back from him momentarily to straddle the log the were seated on, and he took the moment to do the same, hand still threaded with hers. When she had her thighs draped over his, she resumed the kiss, patient with his hesitancy, her own fingers at work against his. He was impressed at her quick understanding of vulcan intimacy, employing it in tandem with her human equivalent, doubling the intensity of it to his senses.

Then Lizabeth caught him by surprise and raised their hands to her mouth, taking a single finger against her tongue and suckling. The effect on him was noticeably immediate. Serket had sucked in his breath, eyes wide and focused on her mouth. He was at a loss for how to proceed. She moved to a second finger, tongue delicately wrapping around it. It was too much.

He pulled his hand back, disengaging. Her expression betrayed dismay, but it was not at him. He wrapped his arms around her to pull her to him while he sought to calm himself. He felt her hands slide up along his back as she buried her face against his throat, breath tickling down his skin, weaving past the fabric of his collar. He closed his eyes as her lips made contact, multiple kisses enticing him to respond.

His mind was working to find a way to communicate a request, to take this exploration further, to sate his curiosity of how different human and vulcan might be. He pulled back just enough from Lizabeth to look at her, to really look. She was attractive even by vulcan standards, though her manners were unrestrained and excessive in her display of emotion. Her clothing was easy enough to navigate, a simple jacket over a tunic with a bundled collar, leggings and warm boots topped with fur. Not that different from casual vulcan dress. She had moved one hand to his chest, idly stroking the expanse of his silk robe's embroidered paneling, eyes half closed in the dim firelight.

Serket raised his hand again, stroking the back of his fingers along her cheek before pressing the tip against her lip, raising his eyebrows in question. He pressed gently, giving her the option to refuse his request. She parted her lips and lapped at his finger, letting the flat of her tongue wrap around his digit before drawing it in to suckle on. He was prepared for the sensation this time, hot and slick. It made him want her more. She smiled around his finger as she heard his breath quicken again, then she opened her mouth, to beckon for another with her tongue. He obliged, unconsciously rolling his hips against her as she wiggled closer onto his lap.

The giggle from her carried through his entire hand and felt like it sparked directly into his nerves. He pulled his fingers out against the suction of her mouth, dragging the wetness down across her skin as he dropped his hand to her tunic hem, gently requesting invitation as he leaned his head down to kiss her. Lizabeth responded by pulling his hand under the fabric to her bare skin, leading his touch upwards before letting go to let him decide his next action. Her skin was flush with heat, soft and sharp all at once. 

Serket spread his fingers across her ribcage, catching the prominent thumping of a heart in a very different location from his. He paused the kiss, suddenly interested in the alien beat, so slow and methodical. He followed the curve of the base of her ribcage, coming to the flat plane of the center of her chest. The thumping was strongest here, cradled between Lizabeth's soft breasts. He continued the slide of his hand to the other side of her ribcage, taking note of the twitch of her muscles under his touch, before returning to stroke one breast, topped with a sensitive nipple, peaked in response to his exploration. He moved to the other, gently squeezing, pulling a moan from Lizabeth, and she resumed the kiss, hooking her arms around his shoulders. 

He took her nipple between his slender fingers, pinching just enough to make Lizabeth catch her breath. Not so different after all. He toyed with the delicate nub as his other hand met warm flesh under that tunic, fingers sneaking past the waistband of her leggings to stroke the curve of buttock to pull her against him. She pressed against him, sliding against his clothed hardness, her own hands looking for admission to his skin. 

His hand left her breast as he pulled back enough to open the front of his robe, pulling her hand to the hem of the shirt beneath, where she stroked fingers against the hair that trailed along his midsection. She paused, amused as she chattered something, and when Serket didn't respond with comprehension, she ran her fingers through it again, while brushing at her own soft curls. He nodded in response, taking note of the word “hair”, filing it away for later. She was definitely making noises of approval as she followed it up his torso, then sliding her hands to his back, spreading her fingers to cover as much of his skin as possible.

It was his turn to put his lips against her skin, savoring the thrum of her slow heartbeat carried along her throat, and he leaned forward, leaning her back onto the log, his weight firmly over her and between her thighs. She felt him rock against her, and her delicate explorations turned into clawing. He pulled his hands loose, and sat up again, removing the robe for a moment to shed his shirt before draping it back over them both, to the delight of Lizabeth. She had propped herself up on one elbow to reach for him, fingers roaming unhindered over his chest, until her hand stopped over where she thought his heart was. Her smile disappeared. He took her hand and led it down along his right side, where she felt the flutter of his own heartbeat, so different in rhythm from hers. She sat entranced until he gently tugged at her jacket, requesting its removal. 

Lizabeth dropped it on the log beneath her, its soft lining protection against the rough bark as well as the chill in the air. The tunic was shed quickly enough, dropped into the leaves. Serket's hands were on her skin again, cupping curve of waist and breast, following the dip of collarbone and shoulder, up under her jawline and back to her lips, where she welcomed his fingers back against her tongue, hot and needy. He studied her intently, noting her noises, where the need spiked through most noticeably as his other hand continued to roam over her body, teasing ear, then nipple again, working its way down her stomach and side to slip past the waist of her leggings again. 

The sensation of her tongue and humming directly against his fingers were like a line directly wired to his cock. He wanted in her, and he began to nudge the waist of her leggings slowly past the curve of her hips. She obliged, pulling his fingers free of her mouth so she could reposition herself to strip the rest of her clothing. Her skin was smooth and unmarred, and Serket took the moment to admire her in the firelight, propped over him on one knee as his hands travelled over her hips and thighs, pulling her against his chest to kiss at the slight hill of her hipbone, then the soft swell of her belly and the dip at the center of it. Her hands were in his hair now, curling her fingers through it, palms warm against his scalp. 

He closed his eyes as he rested his head against her, breathing in her scent, so different from vulcan women in a manner that was indescribable. The briefest flicker of a thought ran through his head, confusing and unbidden, that he wanted to hunt her, chase her down, consume her. He pressed his lips against her belly again, chasing the thought off as he pulled her down onto his lap again, mouth pausing at breast, throat, chin, and finally at her lips once more. She moaned greedily against him as her fingers busied themselves with the tie at his waist, releasing him from the confines of his pants, erect and ready.

Lizabeth leaned back, fingers and eyes studying his shaft, small hiccups of surprise escaping her as she traced the ridges of his cock, the line of texture that ran the length of him, enticing to her from the sound of her appreciative noises. Then she wrapped her fingers around him, stroking gently, drawing a slight hiss from him as she explored, dipping her fingers down between his thighs as she leaned back against the fur of her coat. His own hands spread her thighs wide over his, studying what he could in the flickering light. One finger slid between her lips, taking note of her slick folds and prominent nub that drew out more enthusiastic moans as he circled it, pressing into her opening and marveling at how she embraced his finger within.

Serket removed his hand, pulling her closer. She reached for his hard shaft, rolling her fingertips over the head before brushing it against her wet heat, pulling at him to press forward. He knew this part of their game now, no misunderstandings as he slid into her, velvet and heat and tightness welcoming him. She grabbed at his arms, pulling him down to her to rest his weight on her as he pumped his hips, testing how deep her body would accept him. To his surprise, his hips met hers, length entirely sheathed inside her, and she controlled her muscles around him, tightening herself up in waves. It was his turn to gasp at the unexpected delight it sent through him. He was hesitant to move to interrupt what it was she was doing, until she bucked her hips up, a request for more.

She tightened the grip of her thighs around his waist as he slowly thrust into her, her hand snaking past her leg to grasp at his flesh, nudging him to move faster, impatient. He snapped his hips forward, guessing at what she wished or could take, and a high whine crept into her moans at his action, he slowly pulled back, unsure if it was pain that backed her cry, until her nails dug in, hips trying to follow. He thrust forward a little harder, and another cry followed, this time with an encouraging smile. He found a rhythm in short order, rough and enjoyable. Her fingers were digging into his back, the claw of her nails spurring him. He returned the pain with a bite along her shoulder, suckling at her skin as his hips met hers at a steady pace, quickened at turns by her lusty gasps against his skin, his ear. The tracks of her clawing along his skin were hot, another familiar sensation tied to the rut he desired. Perhaps he had his answer, a willing interim mate while he was here on this alien world. The thought of taking her for days took hold, and his pace quickened as she sought his mouth again. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her upright, then changed the angle of his thrust into her, using his hold to pull her onto him. She clung to him, arms wrapped around his shoulders, voice lost to just keeping her breath as she was filled repeatedly, his cock striking every nerve within her to overloading.

It wasn't much longer until the orgasm struck and her back arched, head lolled back with the ecstacy of so much sensation. He continued, slowing just enough as she tightened again around him, carrying her weight as she shuddered. Her moans returned, high and breathy, and Serket laid her back down against the soft fur of her coat before grasping her hips, rolling his own slowly against her tightness before finding the rough rhythm again, wanting his own release inside her. She was extremely sensitive now, the extra slickness made his thrusts easier, and she bucked under him as the waves of her lingering orgasm continued to strike between his movements. 

Serket found this part of the encounter to be uniquely new for him. His previous mates would last far longer, with he being the first to experience the end of the encounter, and then working on his partner to ensure their pleasure. This human, she had stretched out under him, one arm over her head grasping the fur of her coat, the fingers of her other hand clasped between her teeth, muffling her moans as they grew with his continued thrusts. The intermittent tightening of her inner muscles threatened to pull him into release quickly, and she reached for him to cover her, splaying her thighs wide to give him freedom from her embrace to hasten his release. 

He hovered over her, one hand wavering over the points of her skin that would allow him to meld with her, give him the extra familiarity he craved to finish, but he forced himself to let the opportunity pass, and curled his arms under her as he quickened his thrusts. The mewling from her throat gained in pitch as he laid his mouth against her again, then she tightened up around him again, gripping him harder than before and wrenching his own finish from his body unexpectedly. His thrusts now met resistance, the extra little sensation he needed, and he was pumping every drop he had deep into her, breathing unevenly and hard against her skin, his own answering moan rough in his throat. He continued to thrust, pulling everything he could from this encounter, and several long minutes passed before he finally stilled. 

They lied tangled with each other, the chill of the night finally reaching between them. He remained between her thighs as he pulled his robe back over his shoulders, covering both of them. She lazily stroked his face and neck, playing with his hair as he felt her relax around him, unwilling to move. He rested his head against the crook of her neck, her arms finally hooking over him, and they dozed together.

His dozing was startled some time later to a soft clearing of a throat a pace away from the fire. He opened his eyes to find one of his crewmates, eyebrows raised, gesturing quietly for Serket to come with him when he was able. He waited till they were alone again, Lizabeth still asleep, before he sat up. He was still comfortably within her, and his movement woke her with a bit of a startle. He stroked her soft skin again, his movements lazy with post-sex lethargy. He slowly disengaged from her, drawing several soft gasps from her that delighted his ears. He retrieved her clothing for her, shaking dead leaves free of the garments as she sat up with a stretch. She whispered something at him, all blush and soft smile, unitelligible but the tone was clear between their species: the gratitude of release. He pulled her into his arms again as she took her clothes, and he laid kisses on her flushed cheeks and lips, his own attempt at gratitude of her.

**Author's Note:**

> I never planned on writing a first contact fic, but a wisp of an idea took hold and ZOOM! Here we are.


End file.
